


Before Death and Rebirth

by Blakpaw



Series: My Undead Junker Boyfriend™ [2]
Category: Over - Fandom
Genre: Coming to terms with dying, Dabble on what it was like when Jamie was sick, Fear of surgeries and needles briefly mentioned, It's not fun, M/M, Mentions of flat lining and seizures, Mentions of surgeries, One Shot, Sickness, There is no fluff at all, Transplants mentioned, greif, terminal illness, vague mentions of suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blakpaw/pseuds/Blakpaw
Summary: A one-shot to Itches and Stitches touching breifly on what it was like when Jamison was sick.





	Before Death and Rebirth

The first few days of Junkrat’s stay in the medical bay were hopeful. Sure he was sick, couldn’t do much anything on his own, but there had been hope he would recover, because despite how weak he was, for a little while, he was getting better, day by day.

“The plummet”, as they referred to it, came out of now were, one moment Rat had been laughing like there was no tomorrow, hopeful to continue living his chaotic life, and then all of a sudden he experienced his first seizure, and then flat lined. The hope was less, after that, but it was still there.

The hope died when he never went back to getting better, and his health kept going down and down and down, and the vomiting started. First it was meager bile, but soon the blood began to mingle wit it. Roadhog will always remember the moment Junkrat resigned to his fate.

Rat had been staring at the ceiling, deep in his own head, pale and trembling, as if the effort of just living was straining his physical form, eyes droopy with exhaustion, the only sound being the rhythmic beeping of the machines in the room, and the ragging breathing from both occupants. Hog had his snout in a book, trying to ignore the soundless void that seemed to encompass the room. He turned his head to stare at his charge when those bone thin, so so much smaller than they had been a mere week ago, hands trails against the mass of his arm gently.

There’s tears in those huge, vibrant amber colored eyes, but Rat’s trying his hardest to put on a brave face, lips pulled thin, and brows down. If the circumstances were different, maybe, just maybe, it would've been a ridiculous look. But, in that moment Rat looks so much older than he is, as if he’s older than even Hog, and it hurts, tears and claws at that part of Roadhog who’s much more Mako. He takes in a deep breath, his frame shuddering and twitching a bit, as he manages to find the words he needs.

“I-I know i talked ‘bout dyin’.... But I… never thought it’d… ‘appen ye know?” his voice is so small, and ragged sounding, and his hand squeezes a bit “I jus’... I’m…” those tears he’d been trying to surprise just start flowing, and they won’t stop, and his breath hitches and catches in his throat, and Hog reaches out to pull him close”

 

“I-I ain’t-t ready t-t’ die y-yet….”

\--

Hog new Rat hated surgeries and needles, and he also knew that if they were to get the glimmer of hope back it was necessary, blood transfusions to replace what he’d vomited up, a couple surgeries to remove extremely problematic clots, at one point they replaces Rat’s liver and placed in a pacemaker, but within days he was back where they started. Rat had been thin since Hog had met him, but now he didn’t have the sinewy muscles to soften the definition of bones, the hollows of his cheeks like valleys compared to the mountains of his cheekbones and nose, his ribs rolling hills down his sides. His already pale skin sickly tones of yellows and grays with the illness trying to tear him apart from the inside out.

Hog knows the moment Rat gave up on living, the moment he was told he had to go in for bone marrow, the way that sigh left his lips, and he nodded his head and resigned. He stopped fighting, because he convinced himself it was over, despite what Angela and Hog told him.

Despite how fucked up everything was at the time, he still smiled and joked and tried to make bright of his darkest moment, to make his companions last memories of him joyful. Day after day other members of Overwatch visited, and each day he put up a front for them, let them think Rat died brave and happy. But when those doors closed, when Hog resigned and Rat put himself to rest it was Mako picking up the pieces of young little Jamison. A sobbing mess who was terrified of the prospect of hell, who didn’t want to leave, who wanted to live a longer, happier life. Through it all, Mako held his fragile frame and comforted him. He didn’t tell him everything was going to be okay, because they both knew the harsh reality.

It wasn’t. This was it, and it wasn’t just suddenly get better, it wasn’t going to be “okay”, but god damn it, they’ll spend their last moments thinking of what was in the moment, not what could be. Because these were there last moments, and there was no better way to spend it than together, taking it one step at a time.

\--

Long days turned to long nights and back again, and Hog began to lose more and more sleep, to terrified that if he closed his eyes that would be it, Rat would be dead and he would be alone again. Reinhardt, bless his loving soul, did his best to distract him from the pain eating at him, gave him drink, story, and other assorted distractions, and Ana gave him a shoulder to cry on, someone to confide in, a friend to trust with his deepest fears, and his worst nightmares. They became important parts in his own survival through the ordeal.

There were good days, and bad ones, sometimes Rat’s smile was real as it could be, sometimes he could walk a few feet on his own, sometimes Mako felt that evil, cursed ghost of hope, which would be crushed as the next day Jamison would slip away, convulse helplessly on the sheets, flat line, or loose the strength in his chest to breath. As a man who watched the apocalypse happen, who lived in it, lost everything, everyone, he loved, he must admit watching the younger Junker ghost through each day, knowing he was losing the battle, was one of the hardest things he’d ever witnessed. And he was helpless.

He remembers the moment he realized there was nothing he could do to save the man he loves.

Such if the cruel fate of this fucked up world, though, isn’t it?

They were both helpless, unable to do anything but sit back and give in. There was no winning this endless war. Not at this point.

Roadhog knows he won’t survive losing Junkrat, Mako know he has to, because, somewhere along the line, he promised Jamison he would.

He doesn’t have a choice.

He supposes, he never really did, not when Jamison was involved.


End file.
